


With a Flash and a Bang

by TheFalconWarrior



Series: Touch the Sky [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Scribbles, it's been...a week i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24151168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFalconWarrior/pseuds/TheFalconWarrior
Summary: It's time to ring in a new decade. It's another day, another year.
Series: Touch the Sky [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587028
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	With a Flash and a Bang

**Author's Note:**

> ...?  
> Tim's probably kinda out-of-character, idk.

Damian is sulking.

He’s in the corner of the sofa arms crossed, scowling, although the effect is ruined by the intermittent sniffling, the afghan he’s bundled up in, and the piles of  kleenexes all around him.

Alfred is resolutely ignoring the fact that Damian is sulking. The man bustles into the room every now and then, tuts over Damian and answers his own questions when Damian refuses to answer.

Tim sits at the other end of the sofa, working on his laptop, watching the whole thing just slightly amused. He keeps his distance—he doesn’t want to get sick, too—but the Manor is quiet, so he stays.

It’s December the 31 st . Cass and Duke have already left long ago with Steph, in an ongoing quest to discover the best New Year’s fireworks, Jason tagging along. Dick’s still upstairs, somewhere, but Tim knows it won’t be for long—he and some of the Titans have their traditions for the night. Bruce is upstairs, too; Tim remembers back when Brucie Wayne had a New Year’s Extravaganza to attend every year, but somewhere between going from two kids to six his public persona had gone from playboy to tired dad, and Damian being home sick is a perfect excuse to beg out of whatever they’re calling Gotham’s most extravagant New Year’s event this year.

At least someone’s benefitting from Damian’s cold, Tim muses. Damian certainly wasn’t.

In an odd turn of events, Jon Kent had talked Clark and Lois (begged, from the sounds of it) to go see the ball  drop in Times Square. Damian had been invited to go along, and the event had seemed to have excited him more than the idea of the New Year itself—that is, until he got sick.

Too sick, Alfred decided, to go freeze his face off waiting for midnight.

Tim doesn’t tell him it’s just a ball being lowered to the ground, because...it sounds like something he would’ve expect Damian to say. The fact that the kid was so excited for it...Tim remembers that kind of excitement, knows it, and he’s glad Damian’s gotten to a place where he can unabashedly feel it. 

Tim’s own friends have largely scattered. Zeta tubes  notwithstanding , he just doesn’t feel up to travelling halfway across the country to celebrate, right now. He could’ve maybe joined Jason and tagged along with Steph and Cass and Duke. But he’d seen Damian looking miserable on the sofa, and he’d hesitated, and the moment had passed.

It doesn’t really matter, anyways.

It’s December, and Tim feels like too many people are too excited.

He’s lost count of how many 2020-filtered Snapchats he’s received in the past few days. He’s a little tired of people applauding the end of the decade. Although to be fair, this is likely because Tim started thinking about the end of the year and the end of the decade about six months ago. 

By this point the whole thing is really just meh.

So he smiles and he nods and he does  _ not _ feel the need to spread his own cynicism every time the people around him get excited or nervous.

In his siblings’ group chat, Dick, Cass and Steph tried to get everyone to share New Year’s resolutions.

Jason started making fun of them first. Damian joined in, and the chat promptly dissolved into chaos.

Tim joined in once they’d gotten to that point.

Every now and then over the next few days, Dick or Steph would pop in on the chat with a  _ seriously though we never actually talked about new year resolutions _ , but the topic just faded away.

Tim was secretly a little glad.

It’s nine o’clock, and Bruce enters the living room. Smiles, ruffles Tim’s hair and Damian’s.

_ Still here, Tim? _

_ Yeah. _

_ Thought you’d left with the others. _

Tim shrugs, but doesn’t explain. Bruce doesn’t push.

Instead he reaches for the remote, turns on the TV, still leaning against the back of the sofa.

_ I know it’s a poor substitute...but I thought we might watch the ball from home. _

Damian scoffs half-heartedly and curls a little tighter. 

_ I’m going to go help Alfred get some snacks and things together, _ Bruce adds, ruffles Damian’s hair one last time and leaves.

Tim hears him stop in the hall, hears his voice and Dick’s but doesn’t really bother to tune in, instead focusing on the  laptop on his knees. 

_ Hey. _ Dick’s leaning in the doorway, smile in place.  _ How you feeling, Damian? _

_ Shut up, Grayson. _

Dick’s smile turns more sympathetic. He doesn’t try to placate Damian because there  are very few ways to do it without making Damian feel bad about having been excited in the first place.

Dick’s eyes slide to Tim, then, because,

_ Tim! Thought you’d left with the others. _

_ No. _

_ Got other  _ _ plans _ ?

_ Nope _ , and he swallows down any other explanation because Damian is still on the sofa next to him. He half-expects Dick to push it but Dick just taps his fingers on the doorway and nods.

It’s the 31 st of December, 2019. Tomorrow will be the 1 st of January, 2020. And then it will be the second, and the third, and the fourth. Then it will be February, and March, and April, and eventually it’ll be 2021, and then one day it’ll be 2030, and who knows, it’ll probably be the year 3000 someday. Time goes on, and on, and on.

It’s 9:30, and Tim’s in the kitchen for a glass of water when something hits his face.

Almost, anyways. He catches it on instinct. It’s his jacket.

Dick is standing in the doorway.  _ C’mon, bundle up. _

Tim blinks at him.

_ Hurry up, Timmy, we’re already late,  _ and Dick is turning around and heading down the hall.

Tim blinks, and decides to go with it. He figures it can’t hurt. He pulls the jacket on over the hoodie he’s already wearing, and jogs out of the kitchen to catch up with Dick at the front door.

It’s a funny experience, being born at the beginning of the century. Just looking at the date is a sudden reminder of your years on Earth. A veritable abundance of opportunities to consider what you’ve done with them. To consider if you’ve actually made a difference, anywhere, to wonder if you’ve learned enough in all that time to actually have anything to offer the world.

They take the Zeta tube. The Titans do fireworks every New Year, and this year they’re doing the Brooklyn Bridge.

Roy, Wally, Donna and Garth are waiting.

_ You’re late, Dick! _

_ Even Wally got here before you, man. _

_ Hi, Tim. _

_ Finally, can we get moving now? _

They rib and they tease and they laugh at each other as they get ready. Tim joins in, and they drag him all the way under into the mess that is family having a good time roasting each other. 

Eventually they’re on a boat, on the East River, and watching the clock. New York City is gray and bright all around them, the river dark and gentle tonight. Tim clutches at a blanket that Donna tossed around his shoulders because even in his layers it is still  _ freezing _ . He can make out the bridge in the distance, all arches and cables, and just barely, the crowds pressed up against the railings. He wonders what it looks like from up there.

And then Wally and Dick are counting down at the top of their lungs and the others are joining in and Tim abandons the blanket, and then there’s smoke and the smell of gunpowder and sparks and light and  _ noise. _

It’s 12:30, January 1 st , 2020.

The Titans are heading back to the docks.

It’s over. Some people will probably continue to party long into the night. Others are headed home, or turning in, and it would be wrong to ignore all the people who slept through the tick of the clock.

Tim still doesn’t quite  _ feel _ it, not really. It’s another hour, another day, another month, another year. Time is endless. Dates and years are little more than numbers to keep records, human constructs to make sense of that long, unending march as the world and everything in it grow older and older.

But he’s on a boat in the middle of a river, the memory of fireworks fresh in his mind. He’s retrieved the blanket because  _ freezing, do I need to reiterate _ , and Dick has an arm wrapped around his shoulder but his face is  _ cold  _ _ cold _ __ _ COLD _ every time it brushes against Tim’s. The six of them are still joking around and smiling and.

It’s nice. It’s good. It’ll be little more than a memory, soon enough, but.

But it’s a good memory to start the year.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and we all know what happened next.  
> Started this back in December? when people were posting on-time New Year's stuff. And me being me, couldn't help but chuckle at the Batfamily ones where it was warm and sunny. Don't get me wrong, I mean no offense and it was awesome stuff but I was there three hours from NJ freezing my face off on a bridge and just. Yeah.  
> Anyways, half-fic (if even) sitting there for a while, and everythings just been really. Meh.  
> Probably never gonna come back to it so here it is, I guess.


End file.
